


When it Rains

by transiock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, bit of angst, rainy day, start of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5298812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transiock/pseuds/transiock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why was John here? He felt like a wet dog out in all this rain. His feet hurt and he back had started to ache, but god forbid if Sherlock was ever tired. He wouldn't be surprised if all this was a cruel joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When it Rains

It was raining and John was stuck with Sherlock. On a case. Why did he agree to this? His shoes were so soaked that he could feel his socks getting damp, and his jumper was forever ruined. Mrs. Hudson would be furious about both of them dripping water onto her carpets.

“We’ll be home soon, John. In fact, if you want, you can go home.”

John shook his head, “It’s alright. Things can’t get much worse.”

Sherlock nodded, then looked around. John didn’t really know what was actually going on. Sherlock said that he didn’t need to, and that whatever that he saidJohn had to follow. John didn't know why he agreed.

_Because you always agree, John. He comes up with some crazy plan and you come along for the ride._

“We need to run.”

“What, Sherl-” He arm was tugged. 

“John, I know, just trust me,” He said quickly, his eyes pleading. Less like a puppy dog and more like the look right before John was almost killed at the hands of some serial killer.  John rolled his neck and started running with Sherlock. The rain splashed around his calves and he could feel the splattering on his entire leg.

_And then you blog about it._

They ran into an alley, panting and half-drowned. John’s jumper was hanging off his form, and he wanted to pull it off but had nothing underneath. Not to mention that it was much better to have some barrier against the wind and rain. Even if it was a soggy one. 

Sherlock was a madman. Dragging them into a dim alley and leaning against the wall, doubled over and his chest rising and falling so rapidly it made John’s heart skip. Rain clung to Sherlock's hair, but did little to flatten the curls. John took his time letting his eyes run over every wave and curl in Sherlock's hair while he was still facing the ground.

That is, until Sherlock sprung up and pinned John against the alley wall.

“What, Sh-” Sherlock put a hand over John’s mouth. John’s eyes were wide. Sherlock’s were cool and collected. John was sure he was blushing. (Himself, not Sherlock. Sherlock never blushes.)(Though, now he was wondering what it would take to get Sherlock to blush.)

“Sh.” Sherlock said quickly. John could feel his hot breath brush over his face, the only warmth he had felt since he had walked outside. 

John laid his hands flat over Sherlock’s hand over his mouth to tell him it was alright. Sherlock let his hand drop, but not very far.

“What is happening?” John asked softly.

“Not your concern.”

“Not my concern? I’m the one that got dragged into the alley and pushed against the wall.”

“Yes, and I’m the one who got you here. I'm glad we have that out of the way.”

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock sighed, “The murderer is about to walk past this alley and I need you to be quiet so we don’t attract attention.” He said in a harsh and firm whisper.

John’s eyes were wide. He didn’t want to be loud, but _the murderer?_ Why hadn’t Sherlock told him before? He didn’t even know that there was a murder involved. Though, now that he thought about it, it made sense. Sherlock only seemed this focused when it was a decent murder case.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Yes, John. Now, shush.” Sherlock’s hand was still on John’s chest, and he could feel it with every breath.

“But Sh-”

“John.”

John sighed. Sherlock looked at him. Sherlock’s eyes were focused on John’s, close to curious. They made tiny movements around John's face, darting from feature to feature.

He was studying him. Trying to see how he worked. it's the same way he looked at a crime scene. He was trying to fit the pieces together. Sherlock should know how he works by now after six years. 

 Then again, for a good portion of those years, Sherlock was supposed to be dead.

“John?”

“Hm?”

“...You and Mary…?”

“Yes, Sherlock?” 

“Are you two… alright?”

 John squinted his eyes, “Is this the time to bring this up?”

“We have a few minutes and I'm curious.”

“You’re always curious.”

“Exactly. So, you and Mary?”

John’s head dipped down. He studied the slick stone beneath them, then sucked in a breath.

”I don’t know what we are.”

“Do you love her?" He asked without a pause.

“Sherlock. We are in an alley waiting for a murderer, do you really want to bring this up?”

“Yes.”

John took a breath, “I don’t think so, no. I care for her, but…” He looked up at Sherlock, “I don’t think I love her like that anymore.”

“So that’s a no, then?”

“Let’s say that. Yes, Sherlock.”

John didn’t know if he should have jumped to that. He could still love her. She had lied and shot his best friend, but she did care. And she didn’t shoot to kill.

“I mean… I think so. She’s- I could still…”

“John, you’re too good. You don’t love her.”

“And how do you know that?” John asked defensively.

“Your heart is racing, and your pupils are dilated.”

“So?”

“My hand is on you chest.”

“And?”

Sherlock leaned in a little closer, “You’re attracted to _me_ , John. And unless you're a teen girl in a young adult novel, or happen to be polyamorous, I'll take that to be a sign.”

“Wh- Sh- I am not-” John’s face was hot and he was stuttering. He hated Sherlock for being able to read him like a book.

 Because of course he was attracted to Sherlock. God, who  _wouldn't_ be? Sherlock was gorgeous. 

“You should stop denying it. It’s not good for you.”

“I don’t. And like you know what’s good for me.” John muttered.

“I know better than Mary.” Sherlock’s breath cut through the cold rain. 

There was a moment of water and foggy breath between them where John glared at Sherlock. He couldn’t help but look at his lips that were so close and tilted just ever so slightly down.

Then, Sherlock smiled. It was warm and soft, and John had never seen anything like it. Especially on Sherlock’s face. He smiled like finally,  _finally he understood._ Or maybe he just finally knew how to say it. 

“Would you like for me to move closer, John?” He whispered. John stayed still. Would it mean anything? Would he have to do anything? Would this mean he was gay? He had always questioned it. Maybe he was gay. Sherlock did seem rather fit at the moment. Sherlock always seemed fit to John.

Sherlock was rolling his eyes.Then his lips were on John and everything lit up. Sherlock’s hands had moved to John’s waist and John wasn’t sure where to put his own. John hastily kissed back, trying to burn everything into his memory, trying to burn everything but this memory. How Sherlock moved against his lips and how his hips were slightly sliding. How one hand had moved to cup John’s cheek and John never wanted it to end. How it felt like an eternity, but it still wasn’t enough. How Sherlock slowly pulled back and looked into John’s eyes.

He smiled, “Let’s go.”

“What? Where?”

“Home.”

“What? What about the killer?”

“That was a lie. I lied.”

“Sherlock!”

“How else was I supposed to get you here?”

“So, all of this was planned?”

“Partly.”

“How much of it?”

“Conversation about Mary, and pulling you into an alley.”

John was shaking his head, “You’re awful.”

“Is that what attracts you?”

John rolled his eyes, “Partly,” He smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> First Johnlock fic I've posted on here! Hope you like it, and if not feel free to tell me why. Also tell me if you want another chapter, I don't know if I'll continue it.


End file.
